


Put In Your Place

by buttbeans



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AND a degradation kink, Bottom John Murphy (The 100), Breathplay, Dom/sub, F/M, Murphy has a praise kink, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, That's it, The pegging occurs in the second part, You peg Murphy, implied Mommy kink, this was written entirely of spite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27055768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttbeans/pseuds/buttbeans
Summary: Murphy come to bother you one day, doesn't mind his own business and pays the price. Don't worry, he loves it.
Relationships: John Murphy (The 100)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> For my dear friend <3

Murphy was a dickhead. 

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. Honestly, it didn’t bother you too much. After all, you were far more concerned with the constant struggle of trying to survive on a planet hellbent on killing you and that’s not to mention internal affairs. See, Murphy may have been insufferable but he was sunshine and puppy dogs compared to Clarke and Bellamy’s constant power struggle. With a sigh, you busy yourself sharpening your knife. 

“You look like you’re concentrating,” a very familiar voice sounds from the flap of your tent. The agitation that fills you is like a knee-jerk reaction. 

After a long, dramatic sigh, you turn your head to find Murphy standing there with that ridiculously smug expression on his face. You wonder momentarily why Bellamy is even letting him stay, but thinking about it too hard just makes you more annoyed. He shows no signs of leaving so you decide to play along. 

“I was before I was rudely interrupted by a complete idiot named Murphy.” He just laughs and fully enters before taking a seat beside you. “What do you want, dickhead? If you couldn't already tell, I'm busy.”

Your words don’t do much in terms of wiping that stupid look off of his face, but it makes you feel better. “I’m bored.”

“Aw, ran out of children to bully already?” 

“Ha, ha. Very funny.”

You shoot him a glare as you continue on with your task. Murphy would sure look good with this knife pressed against his throat, you think to yourself. Your mind supplies you with a beautiful image. Clearing you throat, you think up a quick response. “I’ll be here all night,” you respond, dryly, “look, if you’re going to sit here, shut up.”

Murphy sits in silence for a shocking amount of time, content to just watch you continue on in your menial task. His hands fidget with the furs underneath him like staying silent is killing him, but makes no effort to speak. He sighs deeply and flops back onto your furs. You hate to admit it, but he looks so peaceful with his eyes (and mouth) shut like that. It fills your brain with thoughts you probably shouldn’t be having about Murphy of all people. Fuck. You spent so long focusing on living that your other needs have gone entirely neglected. Now, they were deciding to let themselves be known for Murphy?

You take a stabilizing breath and go back to just trying to enjoy the silence. And by silence, you mean the study of Murphy's resting face. Of course, he ruins it the moment his eyes fly open and meet yours. For a moment he looks caught off guard but his face settles into a knowing smirk. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

And as much as you want to deny it, something else catches your eye. Something that Murphy absolutely does not need to see. See, while you enjoyed sex with men, sometimes you preferred to be the one doing the penetrating. Not to mention, it came in handy with the ladies. Earth, however, didn’t exactly have a surplus of strap-ons just ripe for the picking. So...you made do with some spare parts no one would really miss. The last thing you wanted was Murphy seeing it and asking questions. 

It’s just your luck that Murphy picks that day to actually have anything going on in that brain of his. His eyes follow yours to the makeshift strap nestled between blanket and furs. The two of you look at each other for what feels like an eternity before you dive for it. Murphy reaches at the same time as you, grasping it in one hand. The two of you wrestle around for it but it ultimately ends up in a very flustered Murphy’s hands. 

He thrusts it into the air triumphantly and then lowers it with a confused expression. You cross your arms across your chest and do your best to ignore the fact that not only are you going to have to explain yourself but, in your struggle, you wound up straddling his lap. 

“Is this what I think it is?” he asks childishly, waving it around like a toy. An extremely inappropriate thought flashes through your mind but you quickly school your expression. “I’m just surprised you even find the time. I have like five minutes, if I’m lucky.”

“It’s not a dildo, you jackass,” you correct him, snatching it from his grasp, “it doesn’t go in me.”

You watch, somewhat amused as the wheels turn in his head and after an embarrassing amount of time his hand flies over his mouth. His face contorts from shock to disgust to pure curiosity. Then, he says, “you do girls?”

“Yeah. Guys, too.”

“Guys?” he asks, laughing despite your very serious expression. “You’ve got to be kidding me. How does that even work?”

A horrible, terrible, absolutely ridiculous idea starts to form in your mind. You know you shouldn’t, but the words are out of you before you can stop yourself. “Want me to show you?” you ask, voice low. It's supposed to be a joke. Oh god, it's supposed to be a joke but you can't stop the way the nerves twist in your stomach, almost anticipating his response.

You expect him to push you off or, at the very least, laugh it off. Instead, his eyes darken and his cheeks flush; he breaks eye contact and slides his bottom lip between his teeth. “Stop fucking around,” he mutters, weakly pushing at your hips. You can’t help but notice that he didn’t say no. 

“It’s okay if you want it, Murphy,” you say, taunting him, “but there’s nothing I can really do for you if you can’t even admit it to yourself.” 

Now, it's definitely not a joke. He makes a choked noise in the back of his throat but makes no move to push you away. “I...I want to see it,” he says shakily, rubbing his thumbs in circles on your waist, “on you, I mean.” He takes a shaky breath that gives you a heady feeling. You could get drunk off just that look in his eyes alone. So pliant and willing.

“And then what, Murph?” you ask, leaning down to whisper directly into his ear. You can feel the shiver that runs through you and your mind runs wild with all the things you could do to him. “There’s no way a guy like you just wants to look.” 

He swallows hard and tries to meet your eyes but he’s clearly struggling. His fingers dig deeper into your hips but you ignore the slight sting and instead grip his chin, forcing him to look you in the eyes. He looks so vulnerable in that moment, like he would let you lead him straight off a cliff. You file that away for later. 

“You think you’re gonna make me beg?” he asks, doing his best to try and salvage his tough guy façade. “I haven’t begged a day in my life.” 

You smirk at the challenge, knowing full well he was just a simple touch away from giving in. “But you’d look so pretty doing it,” you say slowly. It’s a bit of a gamble but it pays off immensely when you hear the little pathetic sound it brings out of him. A poorly stifled whimper breaks past his lips and he looks absolutely mortified. “Aw, do you like it when I call you pretty, Murph? I’ll call you all kinds of pretty things if you ask me nicely.”

His face twists up in shame and he turns a lovely shade of red. For a while you think you’ve lost him but after a moment he says softly, “please.” 

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard that word from him and the desperate tone has your heart hammering against your chest. You try and squeeze your thighs together for some relief but all you manage to do is grind against his half hard cock. He’s clearly not expecting it; he arches up and whines sweetly. The sound comes as a shock and has you wanting nothing more than to immediately draw more out. You grind down again and he cries out, throwing his head back onto the ground. 

And, oh god, you hope no one heard that. You clamp your hand over his mouth and glare at him. “Do you want everyone to know you’re begging me to fuck you like a dog in heat?” you hiss. He shakes his head weakly. “Then you’ve gotta stay quiet. Can you do that for me?”

He nods enthusiastically and you can barely believe this is really Murphy under you. You hate how cute he looks in that moment all shy and eager to please. You though he'd put up more of a fight but it seemed all it took to have him like putty in your hands was a few sweet words. 

“Good boy,” you whisper, nipping his ear. You trail kisses down his neck, sucking several hickies into it. After admiring your work, you dive back in to claim his lips. They’re surprisingly soft against your own and the satisfied groan he lets out when you hands find his hair is just the icing on top. You shush him softly, nipping at the sensitive flesh of his neck. 

All the while, he squirms under you, panting and biting back his moans. Occasionally, he tries angling his hips to rub against your core but it just takes a sharp tug of his hair for him to still. 

You pull back and he tries to follow your touch; you giggle at his desperation. “Why’d you stop?” he asks, breathless. His lips are red and swollen; he looks downright debauched. He watches intently as your hands make quick work of his shirt and your own. He’s completely transfixed as you stand to shed your pants, leaving you completely naked in front of him. 

He reaches out to touch you, but you quickly swat his hands away. “Lay back down,” you order. When he does, you kneel over his face, keeping your cunt just inches above his face. He licks his lips in anticipation and waits patiently for you to lower yourself enough for him to taste you. 

“Beg.”

“Please,” he says immediately, eyes never leaving your own. “Please, give it to me.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can do better,” you say, feigning boredom, “why should I let you touch me? Do you even want me to fuck you? ‘Cause I’m not buying it.” 

He clears his throat and his eyes flit between your exposed core and unimpressed eyes. “I’ll be so good. I promise. Just...just please. I’ll be so good for you, I’ll do whatever you wan-mmph!” His words are lost inside of you but he doesn’t dare pull away. Instead, he buries his tongue further inside of you, damn near consuming you. 

You grind against his face, paying little attention to Murphy’s comfort. If he had any complaints, he didn’t let them be known. He looked so cute down there, you couldn’t help but tease him. 

“You like that, don’t you?” you ask after a particularly talented swipe of his tongue. “Glad we finally found something you’re good for. I was starting to think you were useless.” The muffled cry combined with him doubling his efforts of eating you out are more than enough evidence your words affected him. “You’re such a good little slut. My pretty little slut, right?”

You lift yourself just enough to let him answer. All he does for a moment is pant; his eyes glaze over and you think you may have broken him. Finally, he weakly nods. You would’ve preferred words, but he gives you this look like he wants nothing more than to worship at the temple of you. With a soft smile, you thread your fingers through his hair and tug harshly, burying his face back between your legs. At this point, he’s messy and desperate. You choose to ignore the way he palms his neglected erection, too caught up in your own pleasure. 

You bring your fingers down to join his hot, wet tongue and it’s only a few uneven strokes before you’re tightening your legs around his head and throwing your head back in ecstasy. Murphy holds onto your waist tightly, tonguing you through your orgasm. 

You collapse on top of him and the two of you catch your breath. It’s surprisingly peaceful for a long while. “So,” Murphy says awkwardly, killing any kind of peace you had previously found, “are we gonna do the other thing.”

You consider it for a moment, reveling in the way he started to squirm. “I did say I would fuck you, but I never said when I would fuck you. I’m tired and I have watch tonight, so you’ll just have to wait.” 

He makes a face reminiscent of a kicked puppy and places sweet kisses on your neck. “What am I supposed to do about little Murph? Please, I’m dying here.”

You laugh and maybe it’s a little cruel but it fills you with a sick sense of joy. “You are more than welcome to take care of it yourself in your own tent. I’ll let you know the next time I’m free.” 

“You’re horrible, you know that?”

“Goodnight, Murphy.” You pull him in for one more heated kiss, before watching him pull his shirt on an awkwardly shuffle from your tent.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peg time! :)

You and Murphy had fallen into this routine of fighting all day and violently fucking that god awful attitude out of him at night. From your numerous encounters, you had learned a few fun things about Murphy. The most important of these things being his intense enjoyment of choking. The first time you’d wrapped your hands around his throat, it hadn’t been particularly rough but it was enough to have him spilling onto the forest floor. 

He was ashamed after the fact, even going as far as to avoid you for a whole week. Your problem didn’t really lie in Murphy not talking to you. In fact, you preferred it when he spoke less. What really bothered you was the fact that he was holding out on you and denying both of you an extremely pleasurable experience. 

You catch him slipping into the dropship one day and manage to slip in behind him. “Avoiding me now, Murph? Real mature.” 

He whips his head around, looking as if he’s seen a ghost. He quickly recovers and clears his throat loudly. “Not avoiding, just doin’ my job. I don’t need to give anybody any more reasons to hate me around here.”

“Since when have you given a fuck about carrying your weight around here?” you ask, crossing your arms across your chest. “Look,” you say, not in any kind of mood to beat around the bush, “we both know what this is about.” 

Murphy’s body language almost immediately turns defensive. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You think because we’re fucking that means you know me?”

“I couldn’t care less about knowing you,” you bite back, stalking forward, “I fuck you, Murphy and it feels fucking great. I don’t deserve this forced celibacy just because you’ve got a major stick up your ass about liking a little choking.” 

Murphy’s eyes go wide at your words. It’s clear he has no clue what to say; his entire face is burning red and he takes a step back. “You know? And...and you don’t care?”

You look at him deadpan. “Are you fucking serious? I let you call me mommy last time, Murphy,” you say through gritted teeth, “I’m pretty much game for anything if you haven’t noticed you fucking dolt.” 

He shushes you and for a moment the only sound is the muffled commotion outside. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Do I think it’s weird that even though you were almost hung to death, being choked makes you cum harder than I’ve ever seen? Yeah, little bit,” you answer with a quiet laugh. Murphy clearly does not appreciate your humor. “Yes, I think it’s super weird but I also think it’s super hot and I would like to have sex now. If that’s cool with you, of course.” 

“Shut up,” Murphy says softly, trying and failing to hide the smile that lifts the corners of his mouth. He comes willingly when you pull him by the jacket, crashing your lips together unceremoniously. It’s been way too long and you just needed to relieve all the pent-up stress Murphy’s little tantrum left you with these past few days. 

You release your hold on his hair long enough to yank his shirt over his head. Murphy gets that look on his face like he’s thinking and nothing good ever really comes from Murphy thinking. “Hold on,” he mutters, giving you a quick peck on the lips before rushing off. When he returns only a few moments later, he’s holding a very familiar makeshift rope. 

There’s no way Murphy’s that fucked up. The way he thrust it forward in a silent plea, however, is telling you a completely different story. 

“Murphy...are you asking me to hang you?” you ask warily, taking the rope from him. “I’m down for a little impromptu choking but this seems like something we should talk about first.”

That is definitely not what he wants to hear. “I’m not some fragile fucking girl. Do your worst, I dare you.” 

And it’s like suddenly every shred of concern you had for him just dissipates. You had been happy to go easy on Murphy this past few weeks, but if he wanted your worst then you were more than happy to deliver. 

Murphy knows he’s fucked up but you know him well enough to know you’re not getting an apology until you fuck it out of him. That’s just how it was with Murphy. You take your boot to the back of his knee, bringing him to kneel in front of you. He hisses through his teeth but keeps any complaints to himself.

Wordlessly, you tie it around his neck none too gently. He’s practically vibrating with what you can only assume is excitement and/or fear. If the bulge in the front of his pants were anything to go by, it’s definitely the former. 

“Stand up,” you order, making sure to keep your expression as stern as possible. You toss the rope over the bars in the ceiling, catching the excess that dangles back down and wrapping it around your hand. You give it a test tug, watching as Murphy goes onto his tiptoes to try and relieve the pressure it brings. “You know how to stop this.” 

He nods, expression a little spacey but you can tell he understands. 

"Now, are you gonna be a good boy for me or am I gonna have to work for it?" It's a question you already know the answer to; while Murphy may have been the perfectly submissive that first time around, he'd made sure you worked for that submission every time subsequent. He didn't exactly make it hard, however. You bring your hand up to tangle your fingers in his hair, a sharp pull and you can already see the edges of his resolve crumbling. 

Agonizingly slow, you ghost your lips over his with the promise of a kiss. Not now, of course, but he doesn't know that. The tight hold you have on his dark locks prevents him from moving forward to close the minuscule distance between the two of you. You laugh at the growl he lets out as if he has any power in this situation. "Come on," he demands, "we don't have time for this." 

You laugh again, a bit more mean-spirited. "This could be going fast if you knew how to ask for things like a mature adult instead of acting like a spoiled princess and waiting for me to figure it out for you," you explain it slowly, there's a dangerous edge to your voice that he knows all too well. You can tell it takes everything in him to hold it together. "Even if we get caught, who do you think is in a more compromising position?"

He doesn't answer, clearly more occupied with your wandering hand that has found the smooth plains of his stomach. You're just rubbing, letting your fingers deep just into his waistband before pulling back. Your teeth find his ear, nibbling at its most sensitive part; he bucks uselessly into your touch before pressing his ass back into your crotch. "You just plan on taking...oh, god...taking your sweet time?" 

"This could go a little faster if you ask me real nice," you murmur, trailing your kisses down to his collar bone. 

"Please," he says through clenched teeth.

You give the rope a generous tug, almost moaning at the sheer sight Murphy made. Fear and pure ecstasy warred against one another in his dark eyes and his back arched impressively and his fought for breath. You let the rope go slack before sucking your teeth. "You've got to do better than that. We can do better than a pathetic little 'please'," you chide, exaggerated disappointment laces your tone, "tell me what you want Murphy. Make it clear."

He cranes his neck to look at you, uncertainty clear in his eyes. You reach up to cup his face, running your thumbs in soothing circles before pulling him into what was supposed to be a sweet kiss. It quickly devolved into something desperate and messy. With a shaky breath, Murphy started to speak, "I want you to fuck me and, right before you let me cum, I want you to choke me. I'm begging you. This has been the only thing on my mind for days and I want it to be you. I need it to be you."

God, could he make it sound any sexier? 

"Good boy." You take note of the goofy smile that makes its way onto his face and pull him into another deep kiss. You step away to pull your strap from your abandoned pack before pulling it on over your pants. You stalk back toward Murphy, reaching around him to unbutton his jeans. You let them pool to the floor and send a silent thanks to whichever god helped Murphy decide to go commando. Murphy hated how much you admired it, but he has one of the most amazing asses you've ever seen. 

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you pry his cheeks apart and admire the eager pink hole; you present your fingers to him in a silent order that he quickly understands. He takes the digits into his mouth and coats them generously with his saliva. You massage it into the muscle, dipping your finger in with surprising ease. Your second follows without much resistance and it's clear to you at that moment that this isn't its first stretch of the day. 

The mental picture of Murphy desperately fingering himself late at night, pent up and aching for release is like a punch to your gut. You work your fingers in and out of him with a newfound fervor, avoiding his prostate with every stroke. He's mumbling some kind of nonsense, practically mewling with pleasure. He twists his body to try and angle your fingers toward his sweet spot, but you bring your hand down on his ass as a warning. He jerks forward with a pitiful cry but stills otherwise. His body is trembling and the look he throws you over his shoulder is full of pure, carnal desire. 

"Please, please put it in," he sobs, pushing back onto your fingers weakly, "I can't wait anymore, I'm sorry. I tried being good but it's...it's too much."

You coo softly, kissing all his tears away. "You've been such a good boy," you say, hiking one of his legs up and gripping the tip of the strap on your other hand. "I say it's time I give you a treat, huh? You want me to fuck you now?"

He nods his head enthusiastically, pressing against the tip in an attempt to speed things along. You grip his hip, stilling him. "Behave," you order, "you don't cum until I give you permission. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am." 

You kiss him again as you guide the tip inside of him, drinking in all of the moans that you tore out of him. And when you're fully sheathed, you stay like that for a brief moment to let him catch his breath. It's not too long before he's rocking his hips against you in silent permission. You move slowly at first, something you are well aware he hates. Patience was definitely not one of Murphy's virtues. 

He doesn't complain at first, too caught up in his own pleasure. He head lolls back onto your shoulder and he lets out small grunts and groans and you thrust in and out of him; he looks almost peaceful at that moment. You want to make a mess of it. Without warning, you pull almost entirely out and slam back into him with enough force to knock him forward slightly. He scrabbles for purchase and finds none save the rope around his neck. 

You set a punishing pace, aiming straight for his prostate every time. It pulls some of the most beautiful noises out of him and each and everyone goes straight to your core; your legs and hips are starting to burn with the constant thrusting put that teary grin Murphy shoots you over his shoulder make it more than worth it. You wrap the rope around your hand once more as he starts to tremble and yank, driving into him one final time. 

"Let it go, baby," you order, voice thick with arousal. "Cum for me, Murphy."

And he does. With a few final jerks, he shoots all over the floor of the dropship. You make quick work of untying the rope and checking him over for any real injuries; you would just ask him but Murphy goes completely spacey after intense fucks like this one. He looks fine for the most part and he clings weakly to you, face buried in your shoulder. With a sigh, you let him rest for a few minutes before getting him back into his own clothes. 

"What about you?" he asks quietly, brushing his fingers along your waist.

You laugh. "Who said we were done?" you ask, flicking him on the forehead. "Come to my tent tonight and go clean yourself up. You look obscene." 

And it was true. His hair stuck up every which way, his shirt was wrinkled and-you're pretty certain-buttoned incorrectly. His eyes were still puffy and red and his lips weren't much better. He just grins at you in a downright filthy way and sneaks a quick kiss. "You say like it's not your fault," he teases, "you're insatiable." 

"Goodbye, Murphy," you say, rolling your eyes. But there's a smile on your face. As much as you still hate to admit it, Murphy's not so bad.


End file.
